Hiding In Plain Sight
by MissCrayons
Summary: Seventh year. The brink of war. One move from either party and the world will fall to hell! Harry’s mind however – is elsewhere. Severus SnapeHarry Potter SLASH


**Title** :: Hiding In Plain Sight

**Author **:: Akasha (Crazygirl8639467aol.com)

**Pairing(s)** :: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

**Disclaimer **:: If it's your desire to assume I am in fact JK Rowling herself. Feel free. I must say however that I am not, I do not know her and the few things I own in the world I treasure. One of which is this plot- line. Then rest belongs to some very rich people.

**Rating** :: R

**Summary **:: Seventh year. The brink of war. One move from either party and the world will fall to hell! Harry's mind however – is elsewhere. Severus Snape/Harry Potter (SLASH ALERT -- Homophobes Scram!).

**Category(s)** :: angst/romance/drama

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Dark eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks as a loud yawn emmited from the Boy-Who-Lived. When the green eyes opened again, they saw that the simple yawn had attracted the attention of, not only his two best friends, but the potions master who was glaring coldly at him from the front of the room,  
  
"Please accept my apologies for boring you Mister Potter" he drawled, causing the rest of the class to glance up at the Gryfindor who's cheeks were now dusted with a light blush that always appeared when he became the focus of attention, "I understand how the impending NEWTS would be of no concern of a man of your caliber". However Professor Snape's attention quickly refocused itself on a smoking cauldron sat in front of a wide-eyed and fearful Nevile Longbottom. Harry Potter's attention fell away from the berating his housemate was now receiving and he looked into the concerned eyes of Hermione Granger.  
  
"Didn't sleep last night?" she asked, a knowing smile on her lips. She knew full well he hadn't slept. Between Albus Dumbledore's quest to build Harry's morale and Remus Lupin's determination to be everything his late best friend's son had lost, a father, a godfather and hell, even to an extent a mother Harry hadn't even seen his nice, warm bed until the sun was already glittering on the horizon.  
  
"Bugger Off" was Harry's reply. He intended it to be good-natured but it came out slightly harsher than he had expected. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about him not being a morning person, and wishing Hogwarts served coffee for overly-tired students. Harry was inclined to agree with her on both points. When Harry turned to his other best friend, Ronald Weasly, who was currently gaping at the Professor, ears pink with anger as Gryfindor lost points by the bucket-load. Harry had really assumed that after seven years Ron would have learned to expect nothing less from their abismal potions master.  
  
Harry didn't expect Ron to start to like the potions master, but after last year, every grudge Harry had had previously now seemed obsolete in comparison. It just seemed childish to sit the common room and talk about how much they hated a man who would take points mercilessly off their house, while there was a monster out there who would mercilessly take their lives. A monster that Harry Potter was destined to fight. It was barely a term into the new year and Harry had resigned himself to his fate. Ron wasn't going to change. Ron didn't understand. Ron, was a seventeen year old boy and unfortunatly did not have that luxury. He was the Boy-Who-Had- To-Grow-Up-To-Soon.  
  
Harry hadn't told Ron his other reasons for not hating the greasy Professor. The fact that those long, pale, potion stained fingers haunted his dreams. The pale skin that he ached to touch. The long hair that he wanted desperatly to run his fingers through. The lips that looked so inviting he wanted to attach his own lips to for an eternity. The looming pressence that made Harry's breathing hitch and his heart speed up. The sarcastic comments that ghosted along his skin and made his insides clench and squirm.  
  
No, all those things Harry thought it was best that Ron never knew.  
  
Startled by the loud hiss the cauldron gave out in protest of the chopped Lapei root Hermione had expertly dropped in, Harry forgot his thoughts and once again focused on the real world. A real world were Snape was stood in front of their desk, leaning over Lavender Brown's work disaprovingly, bent slightly forward, the curve of his arse most directly placed in Harry'a line of sight. Of course, Harry's first inclination of this fact was the blood rushing to his groin.  
  
'_Nasty thoughts'_ he chided himself, _'Dumbledore in a bikini'_ this became Harry's mantra until Snape was well over the other side of the room, where-upon Harry relaxed slightly.

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-Notes-

The reason this is so very short – is that it happens to be a prologue. Want to see more? Review! I'm just testing the waters so to speak. Seeing if there is anybody who wants this story. If not, I'll just concentrate on my other works. If you don't review. I won't know to continue. Akasha xxxxxx


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